CHAPTER NINETEEN
Trapped.
If he moved, Sloane took the hit. If he surrendered…
Nick took a moment to breathe, to shove down everything but the one, unerring reality — Sloane needed to live. If he curled his shoulder, dropped, his body mass might be enough to keep her from getting hit. Give his buddies time to react — pull her free. He likely wouldn’t live to recount the story, but she would.
And that’s all that mattered.
The dot hovered over her head, dropping to her heart as Nick drew a breath, counted it down in his head.
Movement.
Charging out from the shadows. Nothing more than a blur in the darkened bay. Nick inhaled as Dalton slammed into him running full out, the man’s momentum carrying them all across the floor and behind the ambulance’s rear tires.
A sharp crack split the air, the supersonic round ending in a dull thump. Dalton grunted, hit the pavement, only to bounce up, weapon still tracking the shadows, his face a mask of professional rage.
Blood blossomed on his left shoulder, high enough it likely hadn’t hit anything life-threatening, but definitely hard enoughto slow him down. Maybe numb that arm to the point he’d have to let it hang by his side.
His buddy shifted the weapon to his other hand, looking just as lethal with his Sig palmed in his right hand before his leaned against the ambulance door, blood smearing across the metal behind him.
Nick grabbed Dalton’s shirt, yanked him back enough to open the rear doors, shove him inside. “You’re insane, you know that?”
Dalton snorted. “Beats your plan, which essentially had you sacrificing yourself because there was no way you were getting clear before that asshole pulled the trigger.”
“Right and you taking one to the shoulder?—”
“Will heal. Shot through the head or the heart, a lot harder to come back from, brother.”
Nick smiled his thanks as Bodie and Buck lit up the bay, muzzles flashing in the dark, rounds chewing up the pavement in front of the rolling door before switching to the mezzanine where the sniper had been nesting. Buck tossed a smoke grenade, the canister bouncing across the interior before detonating, a blinding plume of blue smoke swirling into the air.
The sniper fired off a few more rounds, missed anything of value, as Nick’s teammates raced across the bay, jumped into the front of the ambulance.
Bodie had the cowling off, the wires stripped in record time, Buck kept any interested parties at arm’s length with strategic trigger pulls. Sparks jumped between the metal cables, the engine turning over with a rough bark. It chugged a couple times, coughing and spitting before evening out, the steady growl sounding like an angry dog.
Bodie floored it, peeled out of the bay in a cloud of burning rubber. The vehicle fishtailed on the rain-slick concrete, skidding out the open door, the top just squeaking under thelip, then into the night. Rain needled off the windshield, fog threading through the surrounding forests.
The tires squealed, spinning a few times before the rubber caught, surging them forward. They flew up the entrance ramp, thick concrete walls rising on each side. They got halfway up when twin high beams cut through the night, the large circular lights setting them off in harsh relief. An oversized, black SUV idled at the top, double spike strips covering the open pavement on either side. What would cripple the ambulance before they’d gotten a hundred feet past the roadblock.
Bodie slammed on the breaks, pitching everyone forward, as the tires squealed, more smoke burning off the asphalt. The vehicle creaked, the wheels struggling to hold the ambulance steady on the steep incline.
Nick moved between the front two seats, stared out the windshield. A couple armed men flanked the vehicle on either side, looking more than eager to fire.
Bodie clenched his fingers around the steering wheel, looking as if he wanted to throw caution to the wind — punch right through. Instead, he glanced at Nick across his shoulder, mouth pinched tight, slashes of red across his cheeks. “As much as I want to ram that fucker… All I’ll do is crumple the front end, maybe stall the engine. And some cover is better than none right now.”
The rear door on the SUV opened, a man’s trim form stepping out. The guy lacked the tactical attire the rest of the operatives wore, sporting a tailored suit and overcoat.
He walked around to the grill, his silhouette burned into black by the blinding lights. “Hey, Colter. I know you’re in there. Come out. Let’s settle this like professionals.”
Nick looked at Sloane wedged on the floor in the back. What Dalton had deemed the safest spot, virtually impossible for a sniper to get off a kill shot. She’d roused as soon as they’dclimbed aboard. Not fully conscious but aware, her gorgeous eyes tracking his every move. What little color she’d regained had vanished, her pale complexion tugging at his heart.
He smiled, mouthed that he loved her, then palmed the handle. “Bodie, keep the engine running. Buck, watch for flanking operatives, and Dalton… keep Sloane safe. I’m ending this.”
Bodie grabbed Nick’s wrist, held firm. “He’s baiting you.”
“I know, but he’s made one crucial mistake. He thinks I’m alone in this.” He opened the door, stepped out. “That’ll be his undoing.”
Nick shuffled sideways, Sig holstered. Present but what Hill would initially dismiss as a non-lethal threat. Nick left the door ajar, walking confidently toward the front of the ambulance. He kept Bodie’s sightline open, stopping next to the front bumper. “Hill.”
